


washing machine heart.

by literarygalaxies



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Lowercase, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 02:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18459215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literarygalaxies/pseuds/literarygalaxies
Summary: there was a startling lack of emotion within mulberry eyes, lips parted to let in shaking breaths and eyebrows drawn up in anticipation.kokichi's heart was rattling like a broken washing machine, banging against his ribcage violently and loudly.__________________((TRIGGER WARNING!!))_______________Kokichi self harms because he feels that he is unworthy of love.





	washing machine heart.

**Author's Note:**

> what a depressing way to start my account OTL. i promise everything i write won't be like this! also my writing style is lowercase letters, i die on my hill like a MAN. once more, huge trigger warning on this!! please don't read this if you are struggling with self harm and suicidal thoughts; take care of yourselves💘.

soft breathing was the only sound bouncing around in a darkened room, a flashing red light from the long forgotten television reflecting off of a shivering blade. the silver metal seemed perfect and flawless, an unholy contrast to the scarred and deformed skin it was gently held above. there was a startling lack of emotion within mulberry eyes, lips parted to let in shaking breaths and eyebrows drawn up in anticipation.

 

kokichi's heart was rattling like a broken washing machine, banging against his ribcage violently and loudly. without a second thought, the pristine blade dug into his skin and cut it open like paper. the pain was comparable to that of a pinch, the dictator long ago numbed to the action. it almost felt empty at this point, what was once a punishment for himself and a way to cry with no tears no longer elicited any sort of emotional satisfaction. 

 

at this point, it was all for show. an act for himself to keep up behind closed doors because he didn't know how to stop anymore. the lies he told, twisted expressions he pulled and the games he played were all a facade. kokichi really was such a grand actor, even beginning to fool his own heart.

 

however, no matter what he said to anyone or thought alone; his feelings for shuichi saihara never changed. kokichi could stare into space for hours aided by thoughts of the detective. how soft his hair looked, the boy's long eyelashes, dainty hands, long legs, the gentleness of his voice, everything about him.

 

the dictator's feelings bloomed like a forbidden rose, watered by a one sided love that beckoned thorns. chest warmed by fleeting ideas of painstakingly fictional moments of intimacy that maybe, in some new life, the two of them could share.

 

kokichi would smile to himself, the way he is now. warm drops of red falling to the floor and leaving streaks on his pale skin. it was never enough, that pathetic little drizzle. what was it meant to represent? maybe his affections. 

 

the purple haired boy found somewhere new to slash into, the thorn of that love pressing into his very being. kokichi needed his blood to be like a spring shower, relentless and only bringing more flowers. his smile widened, only flinching slightly as he dove in again, again, again and again.

 

it was all shuichi's fault for being such a bright and shining star, for having such a dazzling smile and gorgeous laugh. his every move was like a rock into a washing machine, twisting kokichi up inside. that loving gaze so permanently locked on anyone but him, that adoration so apparent when the detective gazed at kaito.

 

as if he were a jealous and brooding middle school girl, kokichi wanted to ask why he never received such a gaze but he know why. everything about him was revolting, the way he laughed, his choice in wording, the way he dressed. even if kokichi weren't a raving and ranting liar, he was still himself.

 

still an immature boy with ratty hair, a somewhat crooked smile and pale skin that was nothing like anything described in romance novels. he was unattractive and impossible to get along with. that's why kokichi had never been chosen for anything, not even by his own parents.

 

that's why he was content with catching the detective's eye from across the table or in the hallway, just another debri in his ticking time bomb of a heart. 

 

blooming and wilting, much like the wounds he inflicted upon himself. kokichi's arms were like a twisted and gnarled harp singing a song despair and longing. what did it feel like to be loved? to be embraced tenderly by a doting mother or kissed softly by a sweet boy?

 

he didn't know and he figured he never would. kokichi was the type of person who didn't deserve company and pushed away any he was lucky to find. friendships meant intimacy, it meant being honest and telling each other secrets. friendship was what shuichi and kaito had or what kiibo and miu possessed.

 

his breathing was so loud as it swirled around his head, hands shaking as his affection poured all over the floor and into his lap as everything seemed to be spinning. kokichi couldn't help but to laugh, had he gone too far? 

 

the dictator supposed it would happen eventually, his love bleeding him dry. the blade scattered onto the floor, slipping from his weak grip, the clatter sounded like his very own breaking heart. he wondered if, somehow, anyone else would be able to hear it. 

 

kokichi's dizziness overtook him, the boy almost falling over but using his arms to catch himself. the blood on the floor was cold already and he started to laugh again, the harsh warmth and bitterness of his tears contrasting in an unholy fashion. perhaps death had always been his ultimate goal. to live such a lonely, lowly and useless life; he was sure death could be the only positive goal of it all.

 

that's why he'd cut himself open again, again, again and again. kokichi felt a resolve settle into his soul, he would try again and again until he was born into a life where he could be loved. 

 

a life where 'i love you’, wasn't something he whispered while watching his beloved walk the other way. 'i love you’ wasn't simply a thought as he watched that boy's back all day. 'i love you’ wasn't a phrase he carved into his skin.

 

yes, kokichi couldn't wait for such a life as even the blood before him began to blur and almost seem distant. he felt like he was floating, head light as he struggled to breathe evenly. the dictator leaned against the edge of his bed, wrapping his trembling arms around his knees and feeling the fabric there become damp.

 

he ought to rest, it was so late. and so he slept, dreaming a dream of wearing bubblegum lipstick on a third date and trying for a kiss that night. a dream of luscious hair being brushed behind his ear. a dream of tanned skin and half drank soda cans on a beautiful beach. a dream where he was always picked and never had to ask 'why not me?’

 

his eyes finally fluttered open after a few frigid hours, ears ringing as faraway screams crashed into them. all he could see was a white and blinding light, a pure and blurry vision. kokichi hopefully whispered with a hoarse voice, a woeful smile on his lips, “am i dead?”

 

there was no reply but he felt something warm all around him and he hoped he was. his eyes fluttered shut once more. 

 

when kokichi came to again, there was a blinding white light but after just a few moments, his eyes adjusted and quickly found it was just a ceiling fan. before he could even process where he was, there was someone over him and looking directly into his face. there was a pained and concerned expression on his face. 

 

flawless skin, long and dark eyelashes, silver and wide eyes, soft black hair and the softest looking lips. that face kokichi spent many nights dreaming of and many days admiring from afar. that name sprang forth from his lips accompanied by a gasp, “shuichi!”

 

the dictator tried to bolt upright but found a hand pushing him back down into what felt like a hospital bed. the nurse's office, kokichi assessed. everything came slamming into his mind like a truck barreling into a brick wall, his first instinct being to hide his arms that were now blaringly sore. 

 

panic started to rise in his throat as he finally looked at himself, bloodied bandages wrapped tightly around his arm and an IV stuck into the other one. who'd found him? who saw him in such a state? his facade was surely broken, he was so stupid to let anyone find out! everything he did was for nothing, those scars were meant to be secrets between his heart and body. he was so stupid to have even started such an unsightly thing which quickly morphed into an obsession, an addiction, an outlet, an  _ excuse _ ..!

 

he was so stupid to have ever been born in the first place!

 

kokichi's chest heaved as he began to cry, trying to pull away from the IV and from shuichi. he wanted to hide away and never be seen again, to disappear in that moment.

 

“kokichi, please calm down--” shuichi's tone was stressed yet so obviously trying to sound calm and reassuring. his pointed and analytical gaze raking over the disheveled dictator. 

 

kokichi yelled, “don't... _ don't look at me..! _ ” his voice was a pitiful sob, “ _ please… stop looking at me. _ ” he balled his hands into fists, squeezing his eyes shut and causing more bitter and shameful tears to slip down his cheeks. “you weren't supposed to see that,  _ no one was _ . i..!” the boy wanted to scream and thrash about like a child throwing a temper tantrum. why couldn't even death go his way?!

 

_ “i was supposed to die..!” _

 

kokichi nearly screamed, pushing shuichi away before curling in on himself by wrapping his arms around his knees. there was nothing he could do but sob. it was useless to hide his sorrow, it would be an empty act at this point. there was no denying what shuichi and the others saw. so kokichi no longer denied himself the right to cry, wailing loudly.

 

“then… i won't look. i'll close my eyes.” shuichi said with a much steadier tone this time around, “you can even look for yourself, i promise i can't see a thing.” the detective said, being true to his word. shakily, he made his way over to kokichi and found his shoulder in the sea of uncertainty.

 

“just, please, allow me to do this one thing.” shuichi pleaded. kokichi's head immediately shot up, unbeknownst to the detective, mulberry eyes almost fearful yet still managing to hold both contempt and shame. nothing on earth could have prepared the dictator for what came next.

 

shuichi embraced him, wrapping strong and warm arms around the trembling excuse of kokichi ouma. in the kindest tone anyone had ever taken with the boy, the detective simply assured him, “it's alright,  _ it's alright _ .”

 

that phrase felt like something kokichi had been waiting his entire life to hear, that hug felt like a gift from what was surely the next life over. shuichi was so warm that it felt like a scorching sun had wrapped around him, so gentle that kokichi was sure the taller was made of cotton. even more unrestrained crying left his trembling lips, echoing and bouncing off of the sterile walls.

 

what a lovely feeling, kokichi couldn't help but to think. his chest was surely blooming more flowers, the thorns of it practically ripping apart the others’ petals. 

 

surely this was a metal chain tossed into his washing machine heart.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i might write a continuation to this?? maybe?? it would be of shuichi helping kokichi with his recovery so it'd have a happier and healthier tone than this piece.


End file.
